Act 2 — SCENE III.

A Room in Falso’s House.

Enter Falso, Knight, and Jeweller’s Wife.

Fal. Why, this is but the second time of your coming, kinsman; visit me oftener.—Daughter, I charge you bring this gentleman along with you:—gentleman! I cry ye mercy, sir; I call you gentleman still; I forget you’re but a knight; you must pardon me, sir.

Knight. For your worship’s kindness—worship! I cry you mercy, sir; I call you worshipful still; I forget you’re but a justice.

358Fal. I am no more, i’faith.

Knight. You must pardon me, sir.

Fal. ’Tis quickly done, sir: you see I make bold with you, kinsman, thrust my daughter and you into one chamber.

Knight. Best of all, sir: kindred you know may lie any where.

Fal. True, true, sir.—Daughter, receive your blessing: take heed the coach jopper not too much; have a care to the fruits of your body.—Look to her, kinsman.

Knight. Fear it not, sir.

Jew. Wife. Nay, father, though I say it, that should not say it, he looks to me more like a husband than a kinsman.

Fal. I hear good commendations of you, sir.

Knight. You hear the worst of me, I hope, sir: I salute my leave, sir.

Fal. You’re welcome all over your body, sir. [Exeunt Knight and Jeweller’s Wife.]—Nay, I can behave myself courtly, though I keep house i’ th’ country. What, does my niece hide herself? not present, ha?—Latronello.

Enter Latronello.

Lat. Sir.

Fal. Call my niece to me.

Lat. Yes, sir. [Exit.

Fal. A foolish, coy, bashful thing it is; she’s afraid to lie with her own uncle: I’d do her no harm, i’faith. I keep myself a widower a’ purpose, yet the foolish girl will not look into’t: she should have all, i’faith; she knows I have but a time, cannot hold long. See, where she comes.

359Enter Niece.

Pray, who^[856] am I, niece?

Niece. I hope you’re yourself,

Uncle to me, and brother to my father.

Fal. O, am I so? it does not appear so, for

surely you would love your father’s brother for

your father’s sake, your uncle for your own sake.

Niece. I do so.

Fal. Nay, you do nothing, niece.

Niece. In that love which becomes you best I love you.

Fal. How should I know that love becomes me best?

Niece. Because ’tis chaste and honourable.

Fal. Honourable? it cannot become me then, niece,

For I’m scarce worshipful. Is this an age

To entertain bare love without the fruits?

When I receiv’d thee first, I look’d

Thou shouldst have been a wife unto my house,

And sav’d me from the charge of marriage.

Do you think your father’s five thousand pound would ha’ made me take you else? no, you should ne’er ha’^[857] been a charge to me. As far as I can perceive yet by you, I’ve as much need to marry as e’er I had: would not this be a great grief to your friends, think you, if they were alive again?

Niece. ’Twould be a grief indeed.

Fal. You have^[858] confess’d,

All about house, that young Fidelio,

Who in his travels does attend the prince,

Is your vow’d love.

Niece. Most true, he’s my vow’d husband.

Fal. And what’s a husband? Is not a husband 360a stranger at first? and will you lie with a stranger before you lie with your own uncle? Take heed what ye do, niece: I counsel you for the best. Strangers are drunken fellows, I can tell you; they will come home late a’ nights, beat their wives, and get nothing but girls: look to’t; if you marry, your stubbornness is your dowry: five thousand crowns were bequeathed to you, true, if you marry with my consent; but if e’er you go to marrying by my consent, I’ll go to hanging by yours: go to, be wise, and love your uncle.

Niece. I should have cause then to repent indeed.

Do you so far forget the offices

Of blushing modesty? Uncles are half fathers;

Why, they come so near our bloods, they’re e’en part of it.

Fal. Why, now you come to me, niece: if your uncle be part of your own flesh and blood, is it not then fit your own flesh and blood should come nearest to you? answer me to that, niece.

Niece. You do allude all to incestuous will,

Nothing to modest purpose. Turn me forth;

Be like an uncle of these latter days,

Perjur’d enough, enough unnatural;

Play your executorship in tyranny,

Restrain my fortunes, keep me poor,—I care not.

In this alone most women I’ll excel,

I’ll rather yield to beggary than to hell. [Exit.

Fal. Very good; a’ my troth, my niece is valiant: sh’as made me richer by five thousand crowns, the price of her dowry. Are you so honest? I do not fear but I shall have the conscience to keep you poor enough, niece, or else I am quite altered a’ late.

361Enter Latronello.

The news, may it please you, sir?

Lat. Sir, there’s an old fellow, a kind of law-driver, entreats conference with your worship.

Fal. A law-driver? prithee, drive him hither.

[Exit Latronello.

Enter Tangle.

Tan. No, no, I say; if it be for defect of apparance,^[859] take me out a special significavit.

Suitor^[860] [within.] Very good, sir.

Tan. Then if he purchase an alias or capias, which are writs of custom, only to delay time, your procedendo does you knight’s service—that’s nothing at all; get your distringas out as soon as you can for a jury.

Suit. [within] I’ll attend your good^[861] worship’s coming out.

Tan. Do, I prithee, attend me; I’ll take it kindly, a voluntate.

Fal. What, old signior Tangle!

Tan. I am in debt to your worship’s remembrance.

Fal. My old master of fence! come, come, come, I have not exercised this twelve moons; I have almost forgot all my law-weapons.

Tan. They are under fine and recovery; your worship shall easily recover them.

Fal. I hope so.—When,^[862] there?

362Enter Latronello.

Lat. Sir?

Fal. The rapier and dagger foils instantly.—[Exit ᚳLatronello.]—And what’s thy suit to me, old Tangle? I’ll grant it presently.

Tan. Nothing but this, sir; to set your worship’s hand to the commendation of a knave whom nobody speaks well on.

Fal. The more shame for ’em: what was his offence, I pray?

Tan. Vestras deducite culpas; nothing but robbing a vestry.

Fal. What, what? alas, poor knave! Give me the paper. He did but save the churchwardens a labour: come, come, he has done a better deed in’t than the parish is aware of, to prevent^[863] the knaves; he robs but seldom, they once a quarter: methinks ’twere a part of good justice to hang ’em at year’s end, when they come out of their office, to the true terrifying of all collectors and sidemen.^[864]

Tan. Your worship would make a fruitful commonwealth’s man: the constable lets ’em alone, looks on, and says nothing.

Fal. Alas, good man! he lets ’em alone for quietness-sake, and takes half a share with ’em: they know well enough too he has an impediment in his tongue; he’s always drunk when he should speak.

363Tan. Indeed, your worship speaks true in that, sir: they blind him with beer, and make him so narrow-eyed, that he winks naturally at all their knaveries.

Fal. So, so; here’s my hand to his commendations.

[Signs the paper.

Tan. A caritate, you do a charitable deed in’t, sir.

Fal. Nay, if it be but a vestry matter, visit me at any time, old Signior Law-thistle.

Re-enter Latronello with rapier and dagger foils, and then exit.

O well done! here are the foils: come, come, sir;

I’ll try a law-bout with you.

Tan. I am afraid I shall overthrow you, sir, i’faith.

Fal. ’Tis but for want of use then, sir.

Tan. Indeed, that same odd word, use, makes a man a good lawyer, and a woman an arrant——tuh, tuh, tuh, tuh, tuh! Now am I for you, sir: but first to bring you into form; can your worship name all your weapons?

Fal. That I can, I hope. Let me see: Longsword, what’s Longsword? I am so dulled with doing justice, that I have forgot all, i’faith.

Tan. Your Longsword, that’s a writ of delay.

Fal. Mass, that sword’s long enough, indeed; I ha’ known it reach the length of fifteen terms.

Tan. Fifteen terms? that’s but a short sword.

Fal. Methinks ’tis long enough: proceed, sir.

Tan. A writ of delay, Longsword; scandala magnatum,^[865] Backsword.

364Fal. Scandals are backswords indeed.

Tan. Capias cominus, Case of Rapiers.

Fal. O desperate!

Tan. A latitat, Sword and Dagger; a writ of execution, Rapier and Dagger.^[866]

Fal. Thou art come to our present weapon: but what call you Sword and Buckler, then?

Tan. O, that’s out of use now! Sword and Buckler was called a good conscience, but that weapon’s left long ago: that was too manly a fight, too sound a weapon for these our days. ’Slid, we are scarce able to lift up a buckler now, our arms are so bound to the pox; one good bang upon a buckler would make most of our gentlemen fly a’ pieces: ’tis not for these linty times: our lawyers are good rapier and dagger men; they’ll quickly despatch your—money.

Fal. Indeed, since sword and buckler time, I have observed there has been nothing so much fighting: where be all our gallant swaggerers? there are no good frays a’ late.

Tan. O, sir, the property’s altered; you shall see less fighting every day than other; for every one gets him a mistress, and she gives him wounds enow; and you know the surgeons cannot be here and there too: if there were red wounds too, what would become of the Reinish^[867] wounds?

Fal. Thou sayst true, i’faith; they would be but ill-favouredly looked to then.

Tan. Very well, sir.

Fal. I expect you, sir.

Tan. I lie in this court for you, sir; my Rapier is my attorney, and my Dagger his clerk.

365Fal. Your attorney wants a little oiling, methinks; he looks very rustily.

Tan. ’Tis but his proper colour, sir; his father was an ironmonger; he will ne’er look brighter, the rust has so eat into him; has never any leisure to be made clean.

Fal. Not in the vacation?

Tan. Non vacat exiguis rebus adesse Jovi.^[868]

Fal. Then Jove will not be at leisure to scour him, because he ne’er came to him before.

Tan. You’re excellent at it, sir: and now you least think on’t, I arrest you, sir.

Fal. Very good, sir.

Tan. Nay, very bad, sir, by my faith: I follow you still, as the officers will follow you, as long as you have a penny.

Fal. You speak sentences, sir: by this time have I tried my friends, and now I thrust in bail.

Tan. This bail will not be taken, sir; they must be two citizens that are no cuckolds.

Fal. Byrlady,^[869] then I’m like to lie by it; I had rather ’twere a hundred that were.

Tan. Take heed I bring you not to an nisi prius, sir.

Fal. I must ward myself as well as I may, sir.

Tan. ’Tis court-day now; declarat atturnatus, my attorney gapes for money.

Fal. You shall have no advantage yet; I put in my answer.

Tan.^[870] I follow the suit still, sir.

Fal. I like not this court, byrlady: I take me out a writ of remove; a writ of remove, do you see, sir?

366Tan. Very well, sir.

Fal. And place my cause higher.

Tan. There you started me, sir: yet for all your demurs, pluries, and sursurraras,^[871] which are all Longswords,^[872] that’s delays, all the comfort is, in nine years a man may overthrow you.

Fal. You must thank your good friends then, sir.

Tan. Let nine years pass, five hundred crowns cast away a’ both sides, and the suit not twenty, my counsellor’s wife must have another hood, you know, and my attorney’s wife will have a new forepart; yet see at length law, I shall have law: now, beware, I bring you to a narrow exigent, and by no means can you avoid the proclamation.

Fal. O!

Tan. Now follows a writ of execution; a capias utlagatum gives you a wound mortal, trips up your heels, and lays you i’ th’ counter. [Overthrows him.

Fal. O villain!

Tan. I cry your worship heartily mercy, sir; I thought we had been in law together, adversarius contra adversarium, by my troth.

Fal. O, reach me thy hand! I ne’er had such an overthrow in my life.

Tan. ’Twas ’long of your attorney there; he might a’ stayed the execution of capias utlagatum, and removed you, with a supersedeas non molestandum, into the court of equity.

Fal. Pox on him, he fell out of my hand when I had most need of him.

Tan. I was bound to follow the suit, sir.

Fal. Thou couldst do no less than overthrow me, I must needs say so.

367Tan. You had recovered cost else, sir.

Fal. And now, by th’^[873] mass, I think I shall hardly recover without cost.

Tan. Nay, that’s certo scio, an execution is very chargeable.

Fal. Well, it shall teach me wit as long as I am a justice. I perceive by this trial, if a man have a sound fall in law, he^[874] shall feel it in his bones all his life after.

Tan. Nay, that’s recto upon record; for I myself was overthrown in 88 by a tailor, and I have had a stitch in my side ever since,—O! [Exeunt.^[875]